Serendipity
by Mathilde Marie
Summary: Serendipity is "a fortuitous happenstance". What happens when Patrick and Brad see each other after ten years? Rating subject to change as the story progresses.
1. A Fortuitous Happenstance

Patrick already had the cigarette poised between his lips. One hand was intertwined with the much smaller hand of his niece as the other impatiently thumbed at the lighter in his pocket. He had been on edge ever since he'd checked the mail on his way out.

"I see it, Patty, I see it!" Daisy beamed, her fingers squeezing and her tiny legs picking up pace. She was Sam in every way. Well, in every way that a four-year-old could be. Patrick smiled down at the excited little orb.

"I think you're old enough to call me Patrick," he said with a smile in his voice. They arrived at the nearest vacant park bench as she errupted in giggles.

"Nooope!" she exclaimed, and he let go of her hand to ruffle her dirty-blond curls. Her eyes were attatched to the newly renovated playground. The wonder they held simultaneously amazed and terrified her uncle. "Can I play? CanIcanIcanIca-"

"Off with you, demon child!" Patrick grinned while waving her off. The instant she was on the playground he pulled the lighter from his worn leather jacket. He sparked the light, brought it to the cigarette, and both proceeded to fall to his lap. His mouth hung open for a moment before he felt a sharp pain at his knee.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, child-friendly filter gone as he slapped the small flame. It died out, leaving him with a red hand and a burn hole in his jeans. He kept his eyes on the burnt denim as he returned the cigarette to his lips and lit it successfully, and he took a long, deep drag.

He knew he should keep an eye on Daisy, but he couldn't look back up into the face that had been there moments before. The face that had been carved into his brain and that invaded his dreams a decade ago. The face of Brad.

...

"Fuck!"

Brad took his eyes from his son Noah to look in the direction the faintly heard expletive had come from. He followed the wide-eyed mothers' gaze until he saw a man lighting a cigarette. His chest tightened as he studied the figure. The black shaggy hair, the jacket, the lanky frame that held less than desirable posture...

"Dad, I'm thirsty!"

Brad nearly jumped out of his seat as Noah's fingers grabbed at the water bottle in his hands. He passed it over and tuned his focus to the boy.

"Having fun out there? Made any friends?"

"I'm working on it," the shaggy-haired boy said and winked one of his enormous brown eyes. Brad laughed and patted his son's shoulder before the boy burst back onto the playground. He cleared his throat and casually looked around the park. His eyes slowly made their way straight ahead and landed upon the face of Patrick.

A version ten years younger had been burning behind his eyes since he'd recieved his High School Reunion invitation in the mail earlier that morning. Patrick's gaze was upon the children so Brad dared to study him. The years hadn't changed him much, he still had the same pale skin, the same faint darkening beneath his eyes, the same shaggy hair, hell, even the same wardrobe by the looks of it. One difference Brad could see was the shadow of stubble across his face. Stubble only popped up here and there on the baby-soft face back when Brad was acquainted with it. He couldn't help thinking this was a good look for him.

He pulled his gaze away and instead turned his thoughts to the man. What was he doing at a children's park? He could hardly imagine Patrick with a child. Where would it have come from? To his surprise a jealous fire ignited in his gut, but just for a moment before he heard an earth-shattering (and extremely familiar) shriek.

...

Patrick heard screaming and was instantly on his feet. He had been looking for Daisy with no luck, and although he was sure the wailing voice wasn't hers, he was full of worry. He ran across the large spanse of playground, dodging children and searching frantically. Right as he made it to the source of the screaming, he collided with a body his own size.

"Noah!"

"Shit!"

Both frantic men landed on their asses. The man who ran into Patrick was scrambling for the little boy crying a flood of tears, but Patrick hardly noticed for he could now hear a much more familiar sob. His vision shot straight up.

"Daisy!" He was on his feet in an instant, staring up in horror at his niece perched high atop the structure. "What the shit are you doing up there? Are you crazy?!" She only sobbed harder, but he was paralized in fear.

"Hey, that's no way to talk to your..." The man at Patrick's feet stood, crying boy in his arms, and raised his voice in protest, snapping Patrick out of it. He turned his head and they were eye to eye. "...kid," Brad feebly completed his interjection.

"I.. erm, I... uh," Patrick's words were stuck in his throat. He was pulled back to Daisy as her sobbing became ragged and even louder. "Fuck," he breathed. "Daisy, baby, take deep breaths! I've got you... I'll get you!" The girl was hiccupping breaths, trying her hardest to control them but still hysterical.

"I'll stay here and watch her if you want to try to climb up there?" Brad's voice was accompanied by a hand on Patrick's shoulder. He froze for a moment before nodding. He glanced back to Brad and his breath hitched at how close they were. In lieu of words, he took off to the nearest enterance to the fixture.

He had a thin build which allowed him to fit, albeit narrowly, through all of the obstacles on the way up to Daisy. She was seated on the hood of a slide, and was nearly slipping as Patrick found her. She sobbed as his long arms found her and pulled her close to him. They stood there for a while as both breathed unevenly and the girl continued to cry.

"Is she okay?" Brad called.

"Just fine, thank Christ," Patrick replied. He sat at the mouth of the slide and positioned Daisy on his lap, not wanting to wriggle his way back through the jungle gym. They came out at the bottom and Patrick stood, lifting the girl into his arms. She instantly started sniffling again.

"Are you okay, Noah?" she asked with teary eyes. Temporarily confused, Patrick realized Noah was the boy now in Brad's arms. He had stopped his wailing, and he nodded.

"What happened, buddy?" Brad asked him, fatherly concern etched all over his face. It was a surreal look to Patrick.

"We were just playing," he replied in a whisper.

"'Just playing' on top of the slide? That is so dangerous, what were you thinking?"

"It w-was my f-fa-fault!" Daisy cried, bursting into fresh tears, "I-I said it would b-be fun! I-I'm s-sorry!" Patrick shushed her and held her close.

"I'm so sorry," he started to Brad, who shook his head.

"Kids are kids," he sighed, "I just hoped this one would have had better judgment." The look he gave to the young boy repulsively resembled that of Brad's own father. Disappointment was the only expression Patrick had ever seen on the old man.

"That was a... giant fall. Is he alright?" Patrick glanced from the slide to the small boy. His gaze fell back to Brad, who hadn't looked away. The man quickly looked down at his son.

"He says his arm is hurting him, I was going to take him to get checked out. Just wanted to make sure you guys were okay. We should really get going..." Patrick gave a slight nod.

"I want Daisy to come with me!" Noah sniffed. Daisy began to nod her head rapidly. Brad looked from child to child, then to Patrick for his guidance.

"Well we walked here, so I don't think we can, little man," he said with a frown, "I'm sorry."

"Ride with us! Please please please, Daddy," his eyes pleaded as a tear rolled down his cheeks.

"Oh, of course," Brad said with a hint of a welcoming smile. Patrick looked at the still nodding Daisy. He couldn't help but chuckle as he too nodded.

"Well then we're there!"

...

The drive to the hospital was silent, aside from occasional sniffles and whimpers when a bump in the road aggrivated Noah's arm. Brad had trouble taking his eyes off his son and directing them to the road, and every so often Patrick would steady the wheel.

Once they arrived at the hospital, the waiting room for the E.R. was a zoo. Silence was becoming much more difficult as their surroundings frightened Noah. He began to breath heavily and it was plain to see he was holding back tears. Daisy looked up at Patrick with worried eyes.

"Make him laugh," he whispered in her ear. She wrinkled her nose in thought, and Patrick was reminded that she could just as evenly resemble Charlie. She suddenly sat up straight, face to face with her new friend. She flared her nostrils, puffed out her cheeks, and fanned her fingers out around her face. Noah began to steady his breathing and before long was in a fit of giggles. Daisy hummed and blew raspberries and stuck her tounge out at the boy.

"You're good with her," Brad murmured above Noah's head. When Patrick looked up they were eye to eye.

"Thanks," he stated simply with a smile as he watched the children.

"I mean, except for somehow bringing her to believe that climbing fifteen feet off the ground was a good idea." Patrick was shocked until Brad's lips broke into a grin. "Giving you shit," he whispered. Upon seeing Brad smile, a laugh escaped his throat.

"In my defense, I'm only doing about ten percent of her raising and that's generous." Brad's face twisted into a look of confusion, so Patrick elaborated, "She's Sam's and Charlie's." Brad's lips formed into an 'o' and he nodded.

"The reckless behavior still makes sense. And the ability to attract male attention so easily," he chuckled and patted his son's head.

"I like to attribute that to my ten percent," Patrick jested, and Brad laughed again. Patrick looked at the giggling Noah and saw the face that stared back at him in every childhood picture of Brad he'd seen. Their resemblance was almost eerie.

"So, no offspring of your own?" Patrick was drawn back to Brad's gaze.

"None," he replied easily. He almost smirked, "The last thing I need is another human's dependance."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But then-"

"Noah Majors!"

Brad lept to his feet and searched for the voice. A hefty, terrifying nurse stood at the double doors, and all traces of laughter were gone from Noah's face. Brad stood with the boy and called out "Here, on our way!"

"Wait!" Daisy yelped. "Wait, I need to say something to Noah!" She impatiently tugged on Patrick's jacket until he lifted her up.

"Hey, uh, Brad?" he called, following the slightly shorter man. Brad quickly turned and Patrick had to steady his steps before they collided for a second time. Daisy flung herself forward and kissed Noah's tear-stained cheek.

"Pick a good color if you get to get a cast," she said with a grin. Patrick smiled as he watched the children. Brad only watched Patrick.

"On your way from where, Florida? Keep it moving!" Brad snapped out of it and he and Noah quickly found the nurse. They disappeared and Patrick was left wondering just what it was he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

**I always find the jumping off point to be the most difficult. I have lots of ideas for these two! Also, sorry not sorry for the shameless Rocky Horror reference. Also, the rating is subject to change with the flow of the story. Please review, I'd love to know what you think! (:**


	2. Dog Days Are Over

"Patrick, I don't approve of my daughter being used as a method for you to pick up guys!" Sam was laughing, but also serious. Patrick could read almost every emotion that crossed her face and voice alike.

"Jesus _Christ_ believe me when I say I'm not picking him up." Patrick threw a glance over his shoulder, just to make sure Brad was still inside. "I'm making something up to him. To his kid, to be more exact."

"Making what up to them?"

Fuck. _Oh, you know, while I was supervising your beloved daughter, I allowed her to escape my vision, and the child she was playing with ended up with a broken arm. No big deal!_

"I... stepped on the kid's foot. No big deal. Gotta go, love you, bye!" He hung up quickly, before she could protest. "Stepped on his foot?" he whispered to himself, shaking his head as he walked inside the ice cream shop.

"Chocolate!" Noah yelled, and the anger in is voice startled Patrick. The look on Brad's face matched the child's angry tone.

"There are different _kinds_ of chocolate, Noah. Pick one." The face of Brad's father was back, and it was enough to make Patrick nauseous.

"Hey, fellas, having some trouble here?" Patrick said in the cheeriest voice he could muster. Daisy was oblivious, greedily and happily taking all of the samples the workers would pass her.

"I just want chocolate and daddy is being difficult!" Patrick had to hold back a hollar of a laugh, and instead only grinned at Brad. Brad's face was also breaking into a smile.

"Are you folks ready to order?" the teen boy behind the counter asked hesitantly. Noah nodded and Brad shrugged.

"He's your problem now. Order for yourself, Noah." The boy instantly said chocolate and was bombarded with samples of options. "You know," Brad said quietly, small smile still on his face, "I swore to myself I'd always let him make his own decisions. But I also need to accept that sometimes he won't make a decision at all." Patrick cocked a brow and turned to the man at his side.

"How very progressive of you, Mr. Majors. You had me thinking a few times that you might turn in to Mr. Majors Senior..." He gave an apologetic look when Brad looked up at him in shock. The touch of sadness in Brad's eyes made Patrick bite his tongue in regret. "Sorry, it's just this look you get. Fucking frightening." Brad sighed.

"Yeah, it's just so engrained. I can see, in a demented kind of way, why he'd be such a dick. I mean, I want the world for the kid. But his world and my world might be two different planets. That just wasn't an option for my dad."

"Anything for you two?" the guy behind the counter asked. Patrick passed and Brad got a cup of strawberry. As Brad reached for his wallet, Patrick gave the cashier some cash and pushed Brad's hand away. The feeling of their hands touching sent a jolt through them and they each took a step back.

"I've got it," Patrick said with a shake of his head. Brad smiled gratefully and the men found the table the children had already acquired.

"You did good, kid, red is totally the best color," Daisy said with a grin to Noah, who was looking down at the cast in amazement. He beamed up at her.

"Really?"

"Yes, silly! How's your ice cream?"

"Good. Wanna trade?" The two slid their cups across the table and grew silent as they ate.

"'You did good, kid'? What kind of little girl says that?" Brad laughed as he watched the little ones.

"Charlie's little girl," Patrick said with a laugh of his own. At the mention of Charlie, Brad dropped his gaze to the bowl in front of him. When shit hit the fan for Patrick, Charlie had been there for him. Brad was not only the _reason_ things had gone south, but had also only added fuel to the fire. He hated himself for what had happened, and hated himself even more for never making things right.

"Do you think we could... I don't know, I think it might be nice to talk sometime? It's been so long, and we... well," Brad was struggling for words, eyes still focused on melting ice cream.

"I... " Patrick took a deep breath, figuring things couldn't get any worse. Or at least hoping. "Yeah, I think that would be nice." Brad's eyes shot up. He cracked a timid smile, the same one he used to give Patrick at their best of times. Patrick chuckled nervously. Outside, the sun was setting rapidly. Patrick worked up the courage to find one thing out for himself. "So, does this kid have a mom that might be wondering where the two of you are?" When Brad looked at him, Patrick made sure it was playfulness he found in his expression. Just in case.

"My mommy died," Noah chimed in bluntly, causing all humor to instantly leave Patrick's face. "And my dad doesn't date ladies." Well, there was Patrick's answer. Brad read his expression and gave a half smile.

"Don't worry about it, we're big boys, we've recovered." He winked at Patrick. The two held each other's gaze for a moment before Patrick's phone buzzed loudly on the table.

"Shit," he whispered, then quickly looked from the kids to Brad, "Sorry, I have a shitty filter. Fuck! Sorry!" They both erupted into laughter. "I guess I just can't be stopped!"

"Well what was the initial 'shit' for?" Brad asked, then turned to Noah, "Don't repeat any of that."

"Sam says dinner is in fifteen minutes. I've ruined the girl's appetite _and_ we're going to be at least half an hour late. Better get our tails in motion, baby." He stood and held his hand out to a reluctant Daisy.

"Nonsense, we'll drive you again. Where's Sam's place?"

"What? It's a couple blocks from the park, but you really don't have to. We've provided enough detours in your day as it is." Brad just shook his head.

"I insist. We insist!" Both father and son grinned. Patrick couldn't help but accept. That smile was one of the things that had attracted him to Brad in the first place.

...

"Turn left up here, and it's the first house on the right."

Brad pulled into park and dimmed his lights as Patrick reached for the door.

"Wait!" Noah yelped. "Daisy needs to sign my cast!"

"Buddy, I don't think we have anything for her to sign it with," Brad said with a frown as he looked back at the saddened children. "Next time, alright?"

"Can we play together soon?" he asked, his eyes growing weepier.

"Of course," Brad said with an encouraging smile. He looked over at Patrick, who's face was only inches from his own. "If they're free, anyway."

"Of course," Patrick nearly breathed. The overhead lights came on as Daisy opened her door, and the two snapped out of yet another unofficial staring contest. Patrick had just closed his door when the window began to roll down.

"Hey, Pat," Brad called. He turned and approached the car, brow lifted in questioning. "We should exchange numbers. To get the kids together again. And, you know, in case we wanted to have that talk..."

"Right, of course," Patrick nodded. "Have paper and a pen?" Brad searched the car and came up with a crayon and a reciept. He tore the reciept in half, broke the crown, and passed the pieces to Patrick. The two wrote their numbers and exchanged them. They bid each other a good night and Patrick swept Daisy up in his arms before heading inside.

...

As they so often did, Patrick and Charlie indulged themselves in one too many to drink, so Patrick opted to stay in their guest room for the night. He tossed and turned but simply couldn't sleep. Thoughts of Brad flooded his brain. The reciept with the crayon-scribbled digets burned in his back pocket. After another hour of tossing and turning, he jumped from the bed and took it out, along with his phone. He punched the numbers in and deleted them out ten times before he finally pushed call. Even then, he immediately hung up. He sighed, throwing his phone onto the bed and sitting beside it, head in his hands. Suddenly, he felt the bed buzz.

The number he had put in over and over was now calling him. He took the phone in his hands as he debated pushing the green button. After what seemed to be an eternity, he answered and lifted the phone to his ear. Brad's voice filled his ear before he could even get out a 'hello'.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Patrick. I was so... I mean, you were.. God I was such a shit!" He went on like that for a few moments longer, and a still drunk Patrick just had to laugh.

"Why hello there, Brad. How are you on this fine evening?"

"I- uh, oh. I'm... fine?" Patrick let out another laugh. Brad would often get nervous like this when they were younger, and it had been irresistable to a young Patrick. "Listen, Patri-"

"Hmm, let me guess. You're... sorry?" Patrick spoke slowly, the always-there note of humor lacing his words. Brad let out a nervous laugh.

"Glad you caught that. God, you know, I'm shocked you even picked up. I'm shocked you spent the day with me. Hell, I'm shocked you didn't knock me out the first time you saw me."

"I think we both know I couldn't _knock you out_ even if I tried." They both laughed almost inaudibly. "But I'm not gonna hold you to how you were at eighteen, Brad."

"Even if I was a despicable fucking eighteen year old?"

"Especially since you were such a despicable fucking eighteen year old," Patrick said with a grin.

"Well that's definitely a relief." Although Patrick couldn't see it, he could hear in Brad's voice a smile to match his own.

* * *

**Jumping off part 2. It won't always be this cutesy, just building a foundation (: Also, I was in quite a rush to get these first two out of the way. I'll try my best, but updates won't often come this quickly. Please let me know what you think!**


	3. The Times They Are A-Changin'

Patrick's fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel of his truck. He stared at the coffee shop straight ahead, attempting to make out any familiarity of the figures inside. He put out the cigarette he had smoked and immediately replaced it with another. Patrick wasn't one to get nervous, he wasn't a worrier. But as he was vividly remembering, Brad could bring it out in him.

It had been a week since their encounter, and they hadn't seen one another since. They had talked on the phone twice, the night after their day together and the night before this little get together. Brad had been the caller both times. Patrick had put their painful past behind him, but seeing Brad so suddenly was bringing back all the bittersweet memories. The excitement and happiness of their love, the disappointment in Brad's shame in their relationship, the pain of how things ended... Patrick didn't hold anything against Brad, but he was cautious nonetheless. He lit yet another cigarette and went back to his search when a voice came from beside him.

"So tell me, is this a chimney, or is this a truck? Because you could have me fooled either way." When Patrick's eyes quickly found the voice, his already racing heart jumped.

"It's a multi-functional machine," he replied, forcing a smile. Brad opened his mouth in an "ah", then smiled warmly.

"Well isn't that the truth," Brad muttered more than spoke. Patrick could have sworn he saw the man smirk, but it was gone in a flash. "Good to see the old beast is still kicking. And it's good to see you, too." Patrick briefly wondered what exactly Brad meant by his first response, but quickly responded to the latter with a much more sincere smile.

"Yeah, it's good to see you, man. Uh, shall we... ?" As he spoke he put out the cigarette that had burned out between his fingers and gestured to the bustling shop before them. Brad looked hesitant.

"Yeah, for sure. I mean, if you want coffee anyway. It was the first place that came to mind but we can go somewhere else if you'd like." Brad's turn to squirm. As he rambled, the corners of Patrick's lips twitched into an amused, barely there smile. He remembered the nervousness of a younger Brad and nostalgia hit him like a wave.

"Well I seem to remember you detesting coffee, so why don't we find another place? Unless, of course, age has matured your taste buds and you've come to the dark side." He gave a slightly mischievous smile and Brad laughed.

"Can't say it has, actually. Where should we go? I can follow, I'm parked right back there." He was, in fact, parked directly behind Patrick's truck. He sat behind the familiar vehicle for a good long while, watching the cigarette smoke escape from the open driver's side window and working up the courage to approach its source.

"Or you could just ride with me while we figure it out, if you want. No need to waste your gas." He lifted a brow as he gave the suggestion, and Brad couldn't have said no even if he'd wanted to. He nodded and with a "sure" he came around to the other side.

"It's like a fucking time machine," he murmured as he slid into the passenger's side. Patrick just laughed as he started up the truck. They drove around for a few minutes, each surveying their surroundings and racking their brains for a place to go.

"I don't know about you," Patrick started, turning to Brad, "but I could use a drink." He smiled and turned back to the road when Brad nodded.

"A drink would be great. Anywhere you have in mind?"

"First place I see, most likely." About two minutes later, they came up on a small bar and Patrick pulled into the lot. Not until they parked, got out of the truck, and were at the entrance did Patrick turn to ask Brad, "Is this okay?" His companion nodded with a ghost of a smile upon his lips. They were asked if they wanted a table or a spot at the bar, and both agreed on a table. Brad ordered a Crown and coke, Patrick a scotch on the rocks.

"So what are you up to these days?" Brad asked before raising his drink to his lips. Patrick had dreaded this question, and he knew Brad had to know that. But he also knew Brad was just trying to be polite.

"I'm a jack of all trades," he said with a goofy smile. "I'm one of two managers at the record store on 17th Street, and just for extra kicks I bartend some weekends at a place a few blocks from there."

"Not the record store we-"

"That I literally dragged you to at least once a week? Yeah, that one," Patrick said with a laugh.

"Well shit! That's great, Patrick," Brad was all smiles, and Patrick shrugged.

"If you say so, man," Patrick gave another chuckle before taking a drink. "What about you? How does Brad fill his days?"

"If you can believe it, I work at my dad's old firm." Patrick's expression was hard to read, but an unpleasant feeling was clear. "They like me far more than they ever liked him."

"Liked?" Patrick asked, emphasizing the "d".

"Yeah," Brad shifted uncomfortably, "He had a heart attack five years ago. He passed." Patrick's emotions became clear, and Brad read shock.

"I'm sorry, Brad. Shit, I've... Sorry if I said anything-" Brad held up his hand to interrupt Patrick.

"Seriously, don't be sorry. You know..." He took a drink and exhaled deeply. "You're probably the only person in the world I can say this to without feeling like a bad person, but good fucking riddance to him. Old bastard." He took a larger drink and set the glass down firmly. Patrick jumped at the sound of glass hitting wood.

"Guessing the years didn't bring any kindness?"

"Quite the opposite," Brad shook his head. "I'm glad he wasn't around to influence Noah. God knows he'd have tried."

"Christ, yeah," Patrick swirled his scotch around, watching the ice spin, and took a drink. "How is the little guy?" he asked suddenly, lifting his gaze back to Brad. The other man instantly smiled.

"He's great. He misses Daisy, though, we'll have to get them together again soon." Patrick nodded and gave a quiet "yeah", but his mind was slightly distracted. Each man took a drink.

"I'd like to ask you a question, of the nosy, outspoken Patrick variety, and if I'm being too bold feel free to stop me, but I'm incredibly curious." He paused long enough for Brad to nod in agreement. "How was it with Noah's mom?" A somber look crossed Brad's face. He finished off his drink and pushed the glass away from himself.

"Quinn was my best friend. After you, I tried really hard to... to change. To not be myself, to be-"

"Straight?" Patrick asked with an encouraging smile. Brad smiled back feebly and nodded.

"Exactly. So I met Quinn at my first fraternity party. We hit it off and she seemed sweet enough, so I thought she'd be a perfect test run. So we started dating, and we 'fell in love'," he ended in a mocking sing-song voice. "I mean, I loved her as a person, but it really made me realize that I just can't feel that way about a girl. But I kept it in, and kept it up with her."

"And she could never tell?" Patrick asked in astonishment.

"She said she couldn't, but I have my doubts. I ended up telling her when we'd been together just over three years, she slapped me, and then told me she loved me and supported me. She was the only person I'd told since going to college, and it was such a relief. I decided then that I didn't give a fuck who cared, I was going to be myself. And it was the best decision I ever made." A server came to the table and they ordered another round.

"So you came out to her, what, junior year of college? So," a pause to calculate in his head, "about seven years ago? What's up with the four-year old?"

"When my dad passed, Quinn came to the funeral. She and I had kept in touch, but she'd moved to Boston after college so we rarely saw one another. She brought a flask, the two of us got shitty drunk, and I think we started talking about how we were both going through dry spells in... that department. And we were familiar with each other, so it just, sort of, happened. When we dated I was always drunk when we had sex, so it just seemed natural I guess. It's all kind of a blur, really." Their second round was brought out and he immediately took a drink. "She didn't tell me about Noah because we were both doing really well at work. She didn't want to move and she didn't want me to feel obligated to move either. She died of pneumonia when he was a year old. She'd written a letter apologizing for not telling me, how I probably hated her. I just wish we could have spent time together with him, you know?"

Patrick was completely speechless. His heart ached for Brad, losing two people that he was so close to in such a short period. He knew Brad talked about his father angrily, but it was still his father all the same. Without words, he attempted to comfort Brad the only way he knew. As Brad stared at his drink, dipping the little black straw in and out, Patrick reached out and rested his hand over Brad's. Brad let the straw go, his eyes first shifting to their two hands and then to Patrick's eyes. All of the feelings Patrick couldn't express were conveyed perfectly in that moment, hands touching and eyes locked.

The pull Patrick was feeling to Brad in that moment was unreal, unlike anything he'd ever felt. Well, aside from the younger Patrick feeling it for the younger Brad. He could have sworn Brad leaned in, ever so slightly, but where they'd have gone from there would forever be a mystery.

_Ring_

Brad jumped, eyes dropping and hands flying to find his cell.

_Ring_

Patrick sat straight in his chair, filling his hands with the cold glass, and filling his body with the liquid it contained.

"Yeah, hello?" Brad asked, somehow seeming slightly breathless. "Mhm, well is everything okay? Okay. Okay, yeah, see you soon. Alright." He pulled the phone from his ear, pressed the red end button, and hesitantly looked back at Patrick. Patrick, having quickly finished his second drink, was starting to feel a bit hazy. He forced a smile, his stomach turning.

"Sorry, Patrick. That was the babysitter, I guess Noah has an earache. I should get back soon." Patrick nodded in understanding. Brad's smile turned more genuine as he mindlessly ran a hand through his hair. Patrick's heart jumped.

"How about one more?" he tested, smirking ever so slightly. A wide-eyed Brad just laughed.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Patrick shook his head, smirk growing.

"Just a beer, it'll be like nothing. C'mon, it's nice to spend time with you after all this time. In a public setting, might I add. Might be a first," he was simply mischievous at this point. Brad tilted his head as he pondered the wonder that is Patrick.

"You always did have a way of persuading me," Brad wore a small smirk of his own.


	4. Falling, Yes I Am Falling

"Uh, dude."

An unexpected voice snapped Patrick's attention from his phone, lying silent on the counter, to a twenty-something with long dirty blonde hair. The kid pushed his selection of records towards Patrick, who just wasn't feeling an apology today. His mind remained elsewhere as he processed the transaction, and once the guy left his eyes were right back on his phone.

It had nearly been a week since drinks with Brad, nearly a week with no contact between the two. He'd been inwardly cursing himself almost constantly, feeling like he was seventeen all over again. Each time the two had talked it had been upon Brad's initiative. Patrick knew it was his turn, but couldn't bring himself to call. He would have his phone poised at the ready, **BRAD** staring back at him and the button with the little green phone burning beneath his thumb. And each time, he'd drop his phone like it was on fire.

It might have been different if things hadn't ended so... so... Patrick didn't think their parting had been bad in any way, but it had been something.

The men reached a level of inebriation considerably higher than they'd anticipated. Upon Patrick's proposed final drink the conversation had turned carefree and joyful, the two jesting and reminiscing about the good times. The good memories had effected both of them, bringing an even pull of sorrow and longing. And further, the longing had brought forth the mildest of flirtations. Patrick would laugh a little more than necessary at Brad's jokes. Brad would touch Patrick's hand or arm when emphasizing a point. It was all harmless.

The sitter called back to say that Noah had fallen asleep and that Brad could take his time, but he knew he needed to head back soon. The two decided on one last drink ("Really, this time!") and then drank water as they tried to sober up. Patrick decided he was okay to drive and the two soon found themselves back at Brad's car. Before Brad got into his car, the two didn't think twice about a parting embrace.

The simple display of affection had raced through Patrick's mind ever since. Whether it was the intoxication or the feelings that stirred just under the surface, they had held one another a few moments beyond what was appropriate. And it felt _so _good and _so _right and that was _fucking _scary.

...

It was nothing new for Patrick to occupy Brad's mind. However, it was getting to be a little more than excessive. Almost constantly the man thought of his first love. His only love, if he was being completely honest with himself. He had loved Quinn, but as a best friend. He had been with other men since Patrick but hadn't come close to feeling the way he'd felt in his adolescence. The two had been children when they were together, nearly incapable of rational thinking, but there wasn't a doubt in Brad's mind that what he had felt for Patrick was pure love.

The day after they met for drinks, Brad took Noah to the park again. They walked through the trees and had a picnic, and all the while Brad imagined Patrick making the duo a trio. He found himself searching for the head of jet black hair. Every day since he couldn't help himself from placing Patrick into nearly everything he did. He imagined the two grocery shopping, paying bills, cooking dinner, even brushing their teeth together. Lying in bed was the worst of all, his imagination running rampant.

He debated calling, but he didn't want to be overbearing. His heart hurt when he reminded himself Patrick had yet to be the caller, but he knew that if Patrick was upset with him he would know it. When the two were together he felt forgiven. He felt liberated and he felt like he could be himself. He never got the impression his presence was a burden on Patrick, quite the contrary. And that made it even harder to endure the absence.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, da-"

"Noah, I heard you the first time." He was grumpy as his son pulled him from his thoughts.

"You said I was going to Granny's tonight! It's almost night!"

"It's two in the afternoon, kid," Brad said with a laugh. Noah just jumped up and down. The boys went up to the younger's room and packed an overnight bag. Brad called his mother and explained her grandson's over excitement. She urged them to come over as early as they'd like.

...

With a stomach full of food, Brad departed his mother's house. Night had fallen and the breeze felt wonderful. Instead of going home he found himself driving aimlessly with the windows down.

His mother was a huge Beatles fan the Fab Four sang in the background the past few hours. As his thoughts quickly found Patrick once again, "I've Just Seen A Face" played in his head. That had always been a favorite of his, and he'd always fancied Patrick somewhat of a Beatle meets punk.

"So... a Ramone?" Patrick had teased when Brad brought up his theory. Brad ruffled the mop of black hair; Patrick snatched the boy's hand out of his hair as well as the hand that had rested at his side, and pinned them behind his boyfriend. Remembering now where the light rough-housing had led brought a flush of crimson to Brad's cheeks.

...

Patrick turned the now ominous phone over in his shaky hands. With a deep breath, he finally pulled up Brad's contact information and pressed call before he could back out once more. The line rang at a painfully slow rate.

...

Brad found himself pulling up to the record store he hadn't visited in a decade. Before he knew what he was doing he got out of the car and walked the short distance to the door. The music that played softly from the outside speakers stopped him in his tracks.

_Falling,_

_Yes I am falling,_

_And she keeps calling,_

_Me back again._

Brad considered it a sign and closed the distance between himself and the door. As he did, he felt his phone buzz.

**PATRICK**

A surprised laugh emerged from his throat as he answered, simultaneously pushing the glass door open.

"Hello?" He grinned, watching the back of Patrick's head as he paced behind the counter.

"Brad, hey! I wasn't sure you'd pick up. Are you busy?" The echo of Patrick's voice sounding through the phone as well as through the air around him was almost dizzying.

"Well I just walked into a store, but I can talk." He was chuckling through the end of his words as he watched Patrick's gaze snap around, the same sort of echoing clearly surprising the taller man. He grinned widely at the gleam in Patrick's eyes when they made contact. Patrick gaped for a moment, each man with their phones to their ears. Brad was the first to disconnect his and he approached the counter. Patrick laughed as he, too, ended the call and placed his phone back down.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said when Brad was a mere two feet away, the counter the only thing separating them.

"Yeah," Brad breathed, almost intoxicated by Patrick, "I was just sort of driving around and found myself here. You seem to keep making me feel like I'm a kid again." The two were all smiles.

_I've just seen a face,_

_I can't forget the time or place,_

Brad gave his head a slight shake and briefly pulled his eyes from Patrick's.

"Sorry I didn't call sooner," Patrick offered. Brad quickly looked back at him with an incredulous gaze.

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied.

"I was calling with a proposition," Patrick started slowly. When Brad's brows raised in curiosity, Patrick laughed nervously. "Well, more like an invitation. I had a great time the other day and was wondering if you wanted to do drinks again." Brad grinned.

"Yeah, but this time we can't get quite so shitty. I was definitely not great to drive." Patrick laughed and nodded.

"We could drink at my place, if you want," he offered. "That way you'll have a place to stay if we do decide to get shitty?" Brad smiled widely. "Oh, but where's Noah?"

"My mom's," Brad supplied. "Drinks sound great."

The two filled the next hour until the store closed with comfortable conversation, each feeling light-headed and eager for the night to come.

* * *

**As I've mentioned in my updates for my other stories, I am so sorry for the unexpected lag in updating. We've moved unexpectedly, and then there was a matter of getting the internet connected again. On top of everything, I may have accidentally erased the chapter I had written for this story... I've popped this chapter out over the last two hours, but I'm pretty happy with it! Let me know what you think! **


	5. Where Is My Mind

As he walked up creaky stairs that led to a worn wooden door, Brad's heart beat hard in his chest. On the other side of the door, Patrick's did the same.

Neither man had considered the implications of going back to Patrick's place combined with their imminent intoxication. Towards the end of Patrick's shift a slight air of awkwardness had begun to hang between them but it went unmentioned. A bottle of Jameson in one hand, Brad lifted the other and rapped lightly on the door.

"Well hello." An easy smile from Patrick was all he needed to feel at ease, if only for a little while.

"Hey, there," Brad answered with a grin. Upon stepping into the tiny apartment, Brad noted that it was entirely Patrick. The brick walls and old appliances were every bit as grungy and cool as the black-haired man. Brad also noted the intimacy of the apartment. It was a studio apartment, and when his eyes found Patrick's bed he recognized the same blanket he had slid beneath countless times in high school. He briefly lost himself in memories of what had happened between the two of them on that blanket, but was thankful to catch himself before Patrick noticed. The other man placed the bottle Brad brought with his own collection of liquor.

"Mind if I have a bit of yours?" Patrick asked and Brad heard the clinking of glasses. He brought himself to join Patrick in the "kitchen" and rested against the stove.

"That's why I brought it," he replied with a smile. Patrick smiled his thanks and retrieved ice from his freezer. Drinks in hand, the men retreated to the two person table in the corner. Patrick felt awkward for suggesting his place as he looked around. The small television which only got local channels sat at the end of his bed, the only place he really sat in the small room. On his bedside table sat a record player and when it caught his eye he went to turn it on.

As the Pixies album _Doolittle_ began to play, nostalgia hit Brad hard once more. It had long been Patrick's favorite album and coincidentally was often what they had played to drown out the sound of their messing around as teenagers. Brad took a large gulp of the whiskey in his glass and closed his eyes tight as it burned his throat.

"Easy there, champ," Patrick teased as he took his seat again. Most music he listened to in his youth, the music that was still his favorite today, had reminded him of Brad; he hardly gave it a second thought anymore. He took a generous drink and exhaled deeply. "So." The seriousness of his voice urged Brad to look him eye to eye, but he found an amused gleam. "High school reunion." Brad laughed.

"Are you going?" Brad asked. He would have been floored if Patrick said yes. Instead, the man roared with laughter.

"Fuck no! I'm going to Sam and Charlie's instead. We're having a little reunion of our own." Brad's look of intrigue prompted him to continue. "Bob, Mary Elizabeth, and Alice are all coming, we're doing a dinner and drinks and such. Are you going to the reunion?" Brad's shoulders barely lifted in a shrug.

"Wasn't really planning on it. They've e-mailed me a few times for my RSVP but I have no desire to see anyone there."

"E-mailed you, have they? Well it isn't surprising, what's a reunion without the homecoming king?" Brad rolled his eyes and the resemblance he bore to his younger self was startling.

"Oh, please," he breathed. He swirled his drink before lifting it to his lips.

"Well do you... I mean would you want..." As Patrick stammered Brad's throat burned with the last of his whiskey. He nearly spat it out with what Patrick said next. "Would you want to go to Sam and Charlie's?"

"You sure they wouldn't slam the door in my face on my arrival?" he asked with a raised brow. Patrick shook his head.

"That was ten years ago, man. If I can let it go, so can they."

Brad thought back ten years to when it all fell apart. He could have been sick when he thought about the incident in the cafeteria. He was such a shit and even though Patrick seemed to have forgiven him, he had yet to forgive himself. He didn't think he ever would.

He also recalled the detentions served afterwards. Seeing Charlie and the pain of it hitting him heavily every day. He remembered thanking Charlie for stopping it; even then he knew how insignificant that thanks was. There shouldn't have been anything to thank Charlie for. He should have been a better man that day but instead he was a stupid fucking boy. He remembered wishing Charlie had just killed him then and there.

"You okay, there?" Patrick's voice pulled him back to the present. A fresh drink had been placed in front of him and Patrick was taking the seat across from him once again.

"Yeah, sorry," he said softly. "If you think it's a good idea I'd love to come. I just don't want anyone-"

"Nonsense, then it's set." Patrick smiled and it was infectious. "If you need someone to watch Noah, I'm sure my parents could. They're watching Daisy that night so he'd be in good company."

"That would be great, as long as it's okay with them."

"Stop acting like such a burden, Brad. I'm sure it will be fine." They reached for their glasses at the same moment. "I think a cheers is in order!" Patrick proclaimed with a laugh.

"To reunions," Brad said without thinking. His amused expression had morphed into an almost thoughtful look and their eyes locked.

"Yeah," Patrick murmured, "to reunions." They clinked glasses and each drank until the burn nearly choked them. The track changed to "I Bleed" and Brad leapt to his feet for a refill. The song was always one of his favorites, and his intoxication from both the whiskey and Patrick made it impossible to think straight. His solution: drink more.

"Fill me up, if you'd be so kind." Brad didn't see Patrick lift his glass and half-stumbled.

"What?" he asked, shocked.

"Uh, more to drink, please?" Brad looked from Patrick to his glass and shook his head.

"Sorry, yeah, sure," he mumbled, awkwardly retrieving Patrick's glass. Their fingers brushed. Patrick wore a mischievous look.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, would you?" He smirked and Brad flushed bright red. He gave a nervous laugh as he found the counter. He set the glasses down a little too close together and they clinked. Patrick thought he was just about the cutest damned thing he'd ever seen; his eyes didn't leave Brad for a second.

"There you are," Brad said with a deep exhale, holding a glass to Patrick and holding his own close.

"Trying to get me loaded?" Patrick asked, laughing at the high volume his glass held. Brad apologized, quickly laughing as he realized he had filled the glasses almost all the way to the rim. The bottle was nearly empty. The two gave a cheers and downed large drinks. Later when the opening to "Here Comes Your Man" rang through the speakers Patrick stood and half-walked half- danced to the freezer. He dropped a cube of ice into his glass and plucked another for Brad. He moved in the same way back to a now laughing Brad. He stopped when his feet touched the ends of the opposite pair of dark brown dress shoes and released the ice. They wore smiles as they held an unannounced staring war, which neither broke as Patrick pulled Brad to his feet. Patrick bumped his glass against Brad's once more and they took another drink. They were dancing, laughing, and doing their fair share of flirting after no time.

"We never danced together," Patrick gave an exaggerated whine. Brad's lips twisted into a muted smile.

"There was the once," he said dreamily, and Patrick's memory came to his aid.

In their youth, they commonly met at the golf course to be together. It started one night with Brad getting trashed alone and drunkenly wandering there; he had golfed with his father earlier in the day and it was fresh on his mind. He had been with Patrick only once before and he wanted more. He called the boy who was at an equally but differently intoxicated, and he was no longer alone in no time. They came to find it was an ideal place to frequent.

One night there was a wedding at the other end, near the clubhouse, and music from the band played through the night. After a rambunctious night and a long while of lying together, Brad surprised Patrick by leaping to his feet and holding a hand out for his partner. Patrick hesitantly accepted the gesture and was pulled bare chest to bare chest. They swayed together in a school-dance kind of conventionality, but it was the best dance Patrick ever had.

"Your dancing... it lit up the floor at Homecoming," Brad had murmured and Patrick had stepped just a little closer. "It was really no surprise, though. You brighten everything."

Patrick's eyes were hot and he felt a lump raise in his throat. Ice rattled on glass as his shaking hand lifted his drink to his lips; Brad's eyes thoughtfully studied him. Brad danced a little further into the center of the apartment, the only open area in the cramped living space. They were just being goofy, swaying from side to side or hopping lightly from foot to foot. Patrick was back in the moment in no time and had another sip and a laugh.

"Maybe you should take it easy," Brad grinned as he moved towards a stumbling Patrick. His own knees shook lightly as he walked, drunkenness wearing heavy. The music turned harsher as they stood face to face. Patrick easily rested his forehead against Brad's and he raised his hand to a muscular upper arm. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead laughed once more.

Brad laughed, too. He instinctively slid his arm around Patrick's still-narrow waist and they walked to Patrick's bed. Brad attempted to sit Patrick down but was quickly pulled to the space beside him.

"You should stay, you shouldn't drive," Patrick said, pressing a long finger to Brad's chest. He let it drag for a moment before retracting it; Brad noticed.

"Where would I sleep? I can go sleep in my car," he offered and Patrick shook his head profusely.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he said quickly. Brad laughed. "You'll sleep here." He pat the bed. Brad's hand was resting on the familiar comforter, and he couldn't say no. He kicked off his shoes and slid back onto the bed. Patrick was still wearing worn Converse when he crawled over Brad and sat beside the man. The only time he and Brad had actually slept in a bed together he had taken the inside. He remained partial to it, as well as the memory.

"I'm glad you came over," Patrick said earnestly. Brad was resting against the headboard, arms folded behind his head, and Patrick didn't think twice about leaning against the warm, firm body. The intimacy of the action startled Brad for a moment, but with an exhale he eased and the corners of his lips turned into a smile.

"Me, too," he breathed. The mixture of all the feelings running through their bodies was electrifying. Their thoughts, their words, the familiar music and intoxication. The feeling of skin, warm and muscular, rising and falling with heavy breathing. Patrick raised his head a ways into the next song but before he was able to speak, he was interrupted by the presence of Brad's lips against his own.

* * *

**I love writing this story. Let me know what you think (: **


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